


Wolfsbane

by jeien



Category: Sound Horizon
Genre: Alternate Universe, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Necrophilia, Obsession, Poison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 00:39:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2753147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeien/pseuds/jeien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It took longer for Tettere to figure out that his thoughts concerning Elefseus went beyond any definition of friendship, especially as they grew older. </p><p>(In which Tettere's gradual obsession drives him to commit an act of desperation.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wolfsbane

**Author's Note:**

> I had posted this on Tumblr two years ago, but I still think this is one of my best works so far. I'll also post the drinking game for this fic: take a drink every time you see the words "poison" and "perfect/perfection."
> 
> Enjoy.

It happened when he was still young, as he was first introduced to Duke Thanatos of Hades. The tall nobleman smiled— _Why, Your Majesty, he’s just about the same age as my son, perhaps a little older_ —and his father, the king, nodded— _Ah, yes, your adopted child; tell me, Thanatos, what kind of boy is he?_ The duke was all praises with his new heir and the king expressed his excitement at the description since he never did seem to get along with the other children his age. _They all seem to bore him,_ his father explained, _so I was hoping that he might make an acquaintance out of your son_ —to which their visitor turned slightly, making his cape whirl to the side like an opening curtain that revealed the hidden gem of the Hadean dukedom.

“Your Majesty, this is my son.”

\--

He leaned against the windowsill that faced the gardens—but he wasn’t interested in those gaudy yellows and passionate red tints; not even the melancholy blues or exotic orange flora could stir his interest. He breathed a sigh of disinterest, lips curling downward with his growing ennui. His aquamarine irises defocused and the colors of the vibrant flowers that lined the several pathways and dotted the bushes began to blur together in a dream-like manner as he continued to wait. He was so lost in thought that he failed to hear the back gates creak open. But once his eyes focused back to the garden at the sound of rustling footsteps, he saw it: bold, magenta lines like a sunset horizon streaked across a canvas of pearly threads that curled and cascaded down broad, proud shoulders.

He looked into those eyes that reminded him of roses and the corners of his mouth deviously curled upwards like usual, “You’re late.”

“Forgive me, my prince,” Viscount Elefseus of Hades apologized, bowing his head as he walked towards the window where Prince Tettere was. “I know it’s of no excuse, but the porter had mixed up quite a few important letters that needed to be sorted out.”

Tettere waved a hand dismissively, “Quite alright; it was mostly in jest anyway. You know as well as I do that I’m usually the perpetrator of being habitually tardy.”

There was a long pause as the viscount stared at him expectantly. The blond let a low chuckle slip though his Cheshire smile, straightening his relaxed posture against the window, “You’re certainly getting better, Elef. I almost believed you that time.”

Elefseus tilted his head back with a groan, breaking all the formality that the preceding conversation created. Tettere laughed inwardly at the childish display while his friend leaped like a predator pouncing on his prey—grabbing hold of the sill and pulling himself upwards. It was an action that had become routine to them since Elef had been so uncomfortable entering the castle through the front doors in the past. _Besides_ , he remembers the viscount admit several years earlier, _it’s much more fun climbing in through the window than walking through a set of doors_. He watched as the other man—yes, he was a man now; a young, seventeen-year-old Ganymede unaware of his own beauty—got inside with a grace that he didn’t even know could exist in such a mundane action.

“Don’t look so defeated,” the blue-eyed prince said encouragingly. “Compared to the last time I saw you, which was quite long ago indeed, you’ve definitely improved your manner of speech. I’m very much impressed.”

“That’s a relief.” Elefseus sighed, adjusting the dark violet cravat tucked into his midnight-colored suit, “I can never practice at home. Charon always teases me about it and even Father finds it amusing.”

Before he was consciously aware of it Tettere began to laugh heartily, which was so much against his refined disposition. Royalty or not, there was still the character of a young man that lurked within his heart, “I don’t blame them. It’s hard to see you try to be so formal. Back then, you were quite a rascal when adults weren’t around.”

The rose-eyed viscount’s expression hardened suddenly. He turned with his back facing the prince and corrected him: “You mean an uncivil beast.”

Rumors abounded that Duke Hades had found him in the wilderness, wearing the pelt of a wolf and teeth stained pink from eating fresh, raw meat. But the boy was not feral and could speak their language, though his vocabulary was unrefined and his appearances were quite unkempt. He recited his name with a childish drawl and soon explained the fate of any sort of family he had: _Mom ‘n Dad got swords through they tummies. Sis drowned. I’s with Grandpa, but he dead too_. With all the benevolence and unbiased mind he had, Duke Hades soon took the wild boy into his carriage and cradled him in his arms with the intent to show the child the love he deserves to know of. He brought Elefseus back to his estate and raised him as his own.

However, having lived off the land for an extended period of time, there were some habits that remained. From that, everyone else began to doubt whether he could really be tamed. Of course, it took some getting used to initially—being around Elefseus, that is. But his vigorous nature saved him once: in the face of a rabid dog, Elefseus immediately shielded the young blond and used his fists to make the dog submit. The younger boy’s brave action came at the cost of a nasty bite to his right shoulder and more rumors perpetuating about the “demon child of Hades” since no one had been around at the time of the incident to witness the context of the dog’s beating. It was then that Tettere realized two key things:

The first was that all Elefseus really wanted was someone his age to talk to. The second was that the older nobles were disgusting for treating him like he was some kind of animal.

The prince pulled his companion by the waist into an embrace. They had been so familiar with each other that there was no awkwardness or shame that accompanied these needed gestures of comfort and assurance. Tettere let his head fall forward, lips barely touching the plane of Elefseus’ right shoulder and eyelids curtaining his aquamarine irises temporarily.

“Don’t say that, Elef. It’s not true,” he reprimanded, left eye opening again. “Look at the person you’ve become during these last several years. Can you still call yourself a beast?”

“That part of me can never be entirely extinguished.” Rose eyes gave a sideways glance and their gazes met, “I’ve told you this before, haven’t I?”

“So you have,” Tettere mused, releasing his hold on his friend’s body. They faced each other and a mischievous smile crept onto the prince’s face, “I’ve also told you that it’s natural for nobility to surrender themselves to their impulses.”

Elefseus’ face crinkled into a look of disapproval, “You know that I’d like to be above all that.”

A lilting laugh spilled out from the blond’s lips, and the sounds of bells ringing somewhere off in the distance created a perfect harmony to the saccharine-coated poison the prince’s advice implied, “I’m aware, my dear Elef. Yet it never hurts to indulge oneself every now and then.”

The pearl-haired young man exhaled a sigh—whether it was one of anxiousness for whatever name that hidden chill down his spine was called or for resignation at the words his closest companion just uttered, he didn’t know. But he had a feeling, which he voiced to Tettere plainly, “One day, you’re going to be the death of me.”

\--

It had taken the prince quite a bit of time to discover that he held certain preferences for the dearly departed. Perhaps it was during the time of the Malbranche Murders—it was six years ago, if he remembered correctly—with monochrome photographs the victims’ bodies making the front pages of the papers.

Yes, yes, Tettere remembered, it was definitely then. His acquaintance, Marchen von Friedhof, was still part of the Inquisition Department of the capital’s law enforcement at that time. His interrogation abilities and intermediate knowledge of criminal motives made him an invaluable member of the investigation team. Of course, that was before Marchen decided on starting his own clandestine revenge business or whatever it was that pale-skinned cynic called it…

Since then he began to be attracted to the lovely corpses people were so kind to have left behind. He hadn’t any idea _why_ , exactly, but he was the type of person to temporarily place questions like those for a later time. After his attraction began, he soon saw the reason: he hated people. They were corrupt and selfish pigs whose only aims are to survive and satisfy their banal desires. Once they die, the tainted soul or spirit or whatever-is-there of the person is gone. The only thing left behind is the body—the shell of their former corruption and the means of which that person was able to live their disgusting life. The body is pure and without intention; the distortion came from one’s inner self and the body was only the external mirror that reflected it. There’s no cruelty or greed found within a corpse. It was ideal.

Few people knew of his tendencies to go grave digging two or three evenings per week. One of those people, naturally, was Elefseus. Surprisingly, the young man took it rather well—he gave him an odd look before saying, _It isn’t as if you go around killing people yourself so you could have your way with them, so who am I to judge?_

It took longer for Tettere to figure out that his thoughts concerning Elefseus went beyond any definition of friendship, especially as they grew older. He heard some of the maids discussing about their closeness one time. The prince won’t deny it. They only had each other to be around as they matured, when their parents were not able to spend time with them. The servants were boring for Tettere and Elefseus’ servants didn’t care for him—well, there was one that his friend would mention occasionally: a young man roughly his age by the name of Orion, but Tettere never liked talking about him—so, essentially, it was just the two of them. As the blond continued to listen in during their inane conversations, when they should be _working_ , he merely dismissed their relationship as a brotherly bond. There was nothing more to it—or so he thought. It wasn’t until the death of Briar Rose that the gears in his mind began to turn.

While he was having tea a few days after his twenty-first birthday, his father came in announcing the engagement to the princess of the Wildrose Kingdom. When he first saw her, there seemed to be something familiar about her that caused such an attraction to come from him. Her beauty was almost ethereal. Her mannerisms and speech were elegant and refined. Her love and support for him was like the queen she was soon to become. She even seemed to get along with Elefseus, which was a wonderful surprise. Briar Rose was virtually perfect.

Except for one flaw, as he was soon to discover.

It happened when Tettere had invited his beloved fiancée to accompany him as he made his usual trip around his kingdom. There was much to learn from these ordinary people. Elefseus taught him that when they were still adolescents. Townspeople also hear the rumors about his rose-eyed companion, and oddly enough this apparently makes his dear friend more approachable. While he still held contempt for the living, the trip had caused Tettere to grow more sympathetic and caring towards his poorer subjects. From then on—since the first day the aqua-eyed prince stepped out of the castle and into the dirty stone pavement of the villages—Tettere made it a habit to go out once or twice a month in order to visit the common folk. It was a routine that made him much loved by his people, since a prince that is in tune with his citizens makes him much more of a person and less of a holier-than-thou noble. Having Briar Rose establish the same relations with her future subjects seemed like a smart idea, as well; and she seemed quite pleased with the idea that she eagerly accepted without a second thought. They took a carriage out into the capital, the largest city that juxtaposed rich and poor into a small-scale nation of its own.

Tettere knew some of the locals by name and they had all congratulated him on being betrothed to such a magnificent woman. And Briar Rose _was_ a magnificent woman. She was a beacon of loveliness that stood out against the dark gray hues of the city and was admired by everyone who laid eyes on her. The Wildrose Kingdom’s princess showed everyone the same kindness that she displayed towards him—at least, until they went out of the inner parts of the capital. Slowly as they began to get further away from the castle, to where the poorer citizens lived, he began to notice a shift in her expression. He couldn’t place the emotion, but it was definitely something different from the gentleness Briar Rose would usually exude.

They reached the edge of the capital and upon exiting the carriage, they were immediately flocked by the local children. Orphans, Tettere knew; this would be the time when they go outside and play together. Giving a sideways glance towards his fiancée, he saw her smiling at the little ones as they tried to lavish her with compliments. But the miniscule twitch he caught in the corner of her lips told him that the smile was strained and forcibly upheld.

The prince soon heard a call coming from a little girl who clutched a large book in her thin, pale arms—the orphanage’s storyteller, El. She was a blood-eyed little girl with snow-white hair much like Elefseus’ and a bright smile despite slightly crooked teeth. According to the nun who ran the orphanage, the girl suffered from a hereditary disease that left her unable to see much of the sun. The book was a gift from her late father that she cherished dearly—and also the medium for her extraordinary talent to weave stories together. During his visits, El would always try to entertain him by telling him tales she would make up days before. They were startlingly macabre for her age, but well crafted. Tettere thoroughly enjoyed them.

The blond approached her and crouched down, “Hello, El. Do you have another story for me today?”

“Yes!” El replied, holding onto the book a little tighter.

“Your Highness,” a little boy missing a front tooth piped up from the crowd of children, “it’s really scary!”

His eyes widened slightly, trying to look somewhat afraid, “Scary? Goodness, how scary is it?”

“She told it to us yesterday, an’ none of us could sleep right!” Another boy warned, throwing his arms up in the air to emphasize his point, “Are you sure you wants’ta hear it?”

“Oh, I’ve faced countless horrors before! I’m sure this will be no match for me!” The prince exclaimed, straightening his posture and putting his hands on his hips with royal bravado. After earning himself a few giggles from the orphans, he relaxed himself and smiled kindly, “Besides, I’ve been looking forward to what kind of story El came up with next. I don’t want to disappoint her by refusing to be part of her audience. Do you mind if my lovely Briar Rose were to listen, too?”

El beamed at the question before nodding her head excitedly, “Go on ahead! I hopes ya like it!”

It was an intricate murder story that revolved around a respectable and well-off family. It was intentionally vague in the beginning but with every murder—every progression—the full history of the family was uncovered. However, the methodology of how the killings happened was the mysterious part: no traces of aggression or violence on the bodies and their faces blossomed with enflamed skin like morbid flowers. Later on, only the husband remained, paranoid of his inevitable end; and soon, he realized that he was the murderer of wife, children, and house staff. Repressed anger and obsession with perfection lead him to develop another self that was hidden away—only to be unlocked during the nighttime. In the end, his other half awoke while he slept and, in a final cleansing, took the poison himself.

Tettere was impressed at the young girl’s handiwork as usual, but there was something about the story that struck a foreign chord within him. He pushed the feeling to the back of his mind as he watched El try to placate the rest of the children, who were clinging onto one another by the tale’s end. Once the group was calm again, they all turned to the prince and his bride-to-be.

“What’dja think, Highness?” The white-haired storyteller asked, with the rest of her companions looking in awe at the blond’s fortitude.

“My, that nearly took the very breath out of me!” Tettere exclaimed, placing a hand to his chest to emphasize his statement, “I’d never thought I’d feel my heart race so fast during the daytime. Although, I could hardly say such a thing when my lovely Briar Rose is with me, right darling?”

When he turned his head, he found his beloved fiancée staring intensely towards El with a bitter expression. The words that she spoke next were startling and revealed the girl’s thorns concealed beneath those delicate, rosy lips.

“Such a deformed child…” Briar Rose uttered almost inaudibly, slowly stepping towards the orphan.

The little girl’s abnormally crimson eyes looked at Briar Rose naively, wondering if the Wildrose Princess had enjoyed her story as much as the prince did. She decided to voice her question, “Did’ja like it, Princess?”

It only took a split second for that elegant demeanor to shatter. The princess’ expression flared with rage and it almost looked like the sheer power of her fury caused her flowing blonde hair to rise menacingly like a banshee ready to screech. She rushed towards El faster than a devastating gale with her hand raised high, intending to strike the poor child for having an appearance she had no control over. El fell back with a scream, immediately putting her thin arms over her head as a way to shield herself from the anticipated attack. However after moments without any pain, the crimson-eyed girl found the courage within herself to peek through the opening her arms made—and saw that the princess’ hand had been accosted by another man who was a familiar face within those parts.

“That’s enough,” Elefseus said, releasing Briar Rose’s hand. By now, a crowd of peasants had gathered around the group, wondering where the scream came from and what was going on. Alongside the common folk were the Royal Guards stationed in the area. Tettere saw his companion gently usher the livid, but now-benign, princess towards them, “Gentlemen, I ask that you please escort the princess back to the castle. It is of the utmost importance she returns there immediately. Be careful you do not upset her further.”

“Are you alright, El?” The prince asked as he crouched down to her level. It was a stupid question to ask her—especially when it’s so evident that the girl was shaken to the bone by the experience.

“D-Did I do somethin’ wrong?” She stuttered, close to tears. The blue-eyed blond, with no idea of how to comfort the wronged child, could only put his arms around her.

“It’s alright, El,” he assured her, patting her back lightly as she let out a choked sob. “That was very mean of her and she had no right to do it. She won’t hurt you any longer, okay?”

El nodded, trying to wipe away her tears. Her friends from the orphanage also flocked themselves around her in a protective gesture, giving her the same comforting words and encouragements. Elefseus, after making sure the escorts rode away safely in a carriage, returned to the prince’s side. Together, they ushered the group of orphans back to the nun, who thanked them both profusely. Tettere shook his head and voiced his shame in Briar Rose’s actions.

“I had no idea she had it in her to be so…” He trailed off, sighing, “Well, you know. But I do hope you and the children will find it in your hearts to forgive me for that unsightly display.”

With that, the two men bought horses from the local stableman and made their venture back to the castle.

During supper that evening, Briar Rose did not utter a word. Tettere’s father conversed with hers in hushed whispers; they had also heard of the incident. They both thanked Elefseus for his intervention and invited him to dinner— _Won’t you stay for supper, my boy?_ —but the pearl-haired man only came to the castle to give the king a letter from his father, the duke. _I’m not too privy on the details, Your Majesty; please accept my humble apologies_ , the younger man admitted rather elegantly—and this made the prince quite pleased at his improvement. Both kings were also impressed at the good-mannered lad and sent him on his way home on the notion of _We wouldn’t want to trouble your dear father and keep him waiting for your return_.

The blond escorted his friend to the stables, with a thought nagging his mind as they walked. The older man then asked if the princess ever acted in that manner towards him. Silence trailed afterwards as they arrived and the viscount retrieved his horse. Tettere’s aqua eyes were constantly focused on his friend and he knew that the answer would come soon. Elefseus wordlessly mounted his horse before responding with: _She never physically lashed out at me_. The steed neighed and he was gone, leaving Tettere to mull over the reply. The answer was concise enough, yet the numerous implications behind it were clear—and that was all he had needed.

Briar Rose became more and more flawed and despicable with every glance he stole from across the table. Tettere was unable to see her in the same light as he did before. Her hypocritical actions were beyond forgiveness and she proved herself to be no more corrupt than everyone else. When they met in the hallway after the evening meal, he looked at her with a hardened gaze. The princess could feel his enmity and merely said, “Your eyes have darkened.”

When he gave no answer, she looked to the floor and went to her room, stumbling away with a hand pressed against her chest. Two hours passed. Suddenly, he could hear the maids’ frenzied cries echoing throughout the entire castle: Briar Rose was dead.

He had gotten there first and issued the command to alert the two kings and retrieve the doctor for a post-mortem assessment. The flocks of maids and butlers frantically obeyed their young master’s orders and rushed out of the room, leaving him alone with his late fiancée. The sight of the princess’ body would have chilled any normal, corpse-fearing person to the bone: Her skin was a pale gray and her hands were wrapped around her neck. Her platinum blonde hair was so light that it almost resembled ashes that scattered themselves around her head. Her face was set in a ghastly expression—mouth wide open and dull eyes wide with fear of the fate she succumbed to. Her cheeks were moist from what looked like fresh tears that she had released as soon as she realized she was dying.

Tettere almost felt bad for the poor girl, but the pity he had was overcome by great relief; that corrupt soul was no longer bound to the body. Once more, it was pure.

Briar Rose’s father soon burst through the doors, followed by the doctor. His own father came last, shooing the servants away from the room. Wildrose’s king wept openly, throwing his arms around his deceased daughter while Tettere, his father, and the doctor stood by awkwardly. Eventually, they convinced the grieving king to let the doctor do his diagnosis. Sometime later, the verdict came:

“Someone poisoned my daughter?!” Briar Rose’s father cried, enraged at the thought. The doctor put his hands up to calm him.

“I’m sure it was not intentional. The poison comes from a plant called monkshood. Its properties are used in Eastern medicine to treat things such as physical weakness, but certain doses are fatal,” the man explained, holding up a small pillbox. “I found this on your daughter’s person. It’s filled with capsules of the remedy. Perhaps she was feeling weak from the events that occurred today and had one too many.”

To this news, the Wildrose kingdom’s ruler fell to his knees and wept again. Tettere’s father and the doctor helped him to his feet and assisted him out of the room.

The blond stepped towards the late princess. He given her the pillbox of medicine not too long ago, since he noticed she was feeling faint more often. Tettere had been passing by one of the markets outside of the capital when he came across the stall of Eastern remedies. Hearing of their potency, he asked the stall owner if there was something to cure weakness; the small man with a thin, drooping moustache gave him the box. When asked what exactly it was, the owner merely replied with his elderly voice, “Wolfsbane.”

In a final gesture of kindness, he placed her hands to her sides, tipped her jaw shut, and guided her eyelids to close. Her expression seemed less elegant and more plain, but calmer and thoughtful. That was when the realization hit him.

In this state, Briar Rose slightly resembled Elefseus.

The next day, news of the princess’ death spread quickly throughout the kingdom. The Wildrose king grieved, even as he stepped into the carriage while Tettere’s father gave frequent condolences and an invitation to stay at their estate in the near future. _I do hope you visit soon, friend; perhaps pleasantries with others will help distract you from the pain_ , was what he said but the late Briar Rose’s father merely gave them a sad stare as the horses trotted back to his kingdom. A second carriage that held the corpse of Briar Rose followed it, with the secrets of the previous nights events forever kept within the now-unchaste body. No one in the castle spoke of the incident and they thought it best to give their crowned prince time to privately mourn over the loss of his fiancée. But he didn’t mourn—he sat in his study with the stillness of the afternoon tea, staring into it with an unfocused gaze that looked darker than its usual aquamarine color. Tettere remembers of the last words he heard from the princess and wonders if it was really true or if it was because of the tea’s own hues mixing with his reflection’s.  

“My prince.” The blond lifted his head and thought he saw Briar Rose’s spirit standing across the room—but Briar Rose did not wear male attire and Briar Rose did not have vivid, rose-colored irises that pierced him to the very core. No, it was only Elefseus, who had found entrance through the open window behind him. The young man took no time in closing the gap between them as he kneeled down in front of him, hands clasped around his own and eyes full of concern, “Are you alright? I heard the news and arrived as soon as I could.”

“I…” Tettere trailed off, voice abating against his will. His companion didn’t need for him to continue; he understood completely and Tettere knew that. Elefseus knew him better than anyone else—better than his father, his retainers, and Briar Rose. He could always count on that one constant in his life.

It wasn’t surprising when the younger man asked him, “Is she perfect now?”

The prince hummed a wondering note before deciding, “She would have been, if not for her pride. _Her_ ideal for perfection ruined her.”

The young viscount fell quiet, the unsaid thought of _I’m sorry_ left drifting in the air. His blue eyes narrowed, sympathetic of the tacit feelings his companion exuded. He always loved that trait about him: despite all that he went through, Elefseus’ intentions were always pure. Tettere placed a hand atop the pearl strings comfortingly, gaze unknowingly wandering and marveling at the inherent beauty in front of him. That act alone made him falter and soon the prince found himself embracing his friend. _It’s alright; I have you_ were the thoughts crossing from his mind to the viscount—and Elefseus understood the silent assurances just as clearly.

It hadn’t been the first time he held the boy—oh, how easily it was to lapse back to that word; he corrected himself—so closely. He had comforted the young man—yes, now it’s right—with such a gesture many times during their childhood together. Yet he found that there was something drastically different from the previous moments of friendly intimacy: something which stirred an unconscious, dark desire he had hidden away and never acknowledged until it began to rattle its metaphorical chains from deep within. This rose-eyed young man was all he needed: strength, bravery, compassion, beauty, wit, perfection.

But no, he realized, Elefseus wasn’t completely perfect yet.

 _It’s natural for royalty to surrender themselves to their impulses_ , he remembers saying before. As his friend returned the embrace, Tettere decided that it was time to set the temptation free.

\--

Wrinkled, dead petals blanketed the season’s first frost as the winter winds caused them to wither and fall throughout the garden paths like a morbid wedding procession. He stood by the window, twenty-three years of age yet still unwed, palms firmly planted against the sill as he tried to quell the anxiety that caused his heart to gallop as fast as the famous black steeds of the Hadean dukedom. The prince’s chest tightened at the thought of the place and, before he could halt his mind’s processes, the object of his obsession. _It won’t be long_ , Tettere thought, _today is the day_.

His breath hitched when he spotted Elefseus walking through the garden path like a bride going down the altar.

“Going around with only that thin cloak of yours?” The blond commented while he watched his friend sit on the sill to knock the snow off his boots before entering his study. He tried to ignore the slight shakiness in his hands—he was so _close_. “Elef, really; you’re bound to catch a cold.”

The rose-eyed viscount dusted stray specks off his shoulders, “My overcoat seems to have been misplaced and I’d hate to be tardy for such a trifling reason, so I thought I could do without. Besides, I’ve felt worse winters.”

“Still, you should be more careful. Go on and warm up by the fire while I go ask for something warm to drink.” Tettere took a moment’s pause before appending with, “That’s an order coming from your prince.”

It was an order Elefseus didn’t refuse. The young viscount moved to take his spot in the audience of the fireplace, while the blond slipped out of the room to halt one of the maids and ask for two cups of coffee. The choice of drink was needed—he found that the wolfsbane poison tended to leave tea looking darker than it should for some odd reason, which would certainly arouse his friend’s suspicions.

Everything was falling into place better than he had anticipated.

Tettere insisted on taking the tray from the maid, giving her another task to do that needed to be taken care of immediately— _Father wanted to set up a surprise gathering in celebration for Lady von Wettin’s engagement, remember?_ As the maid skittered away, he set the tray atop one of the tables out in the hall before pulling the vial of wolfsbane he made by crushing the pills into a fine powder. The entirety of its contents went into the drink and he saw his eyes grow darker and darker in the liquid’s reflection as he fell further into the madness of his plans. To top his concoction, he poured in quite a bit of cream—because he knew his dear Elef wasn’t too keen to coffee in the first place because of its strong taste.

He returned to find the pearl-haired young man warming his hands in front of the fire, without a clue.

“Come now, Elef; warm yourself up with this.” Tettere beckoned, placing the tray atop a round table in the study. Responsively, the rose-eyed viscount arrived at the table with his face slightly scrunched at the sight of the drink. _Why coffee?_ —he could practically hear Elefseus complain; but his insightfulness allowed him to beat his friend to the punch, “The servants haven’t stocked up on tea lately and the milk is slightly sour. I’m embarrassed that we’re so unprepared with refreshments.”

He placed the poisoned cup in front of his companion, “However, I remember your particular dislike for coffee, so I went ahead and added quite a bit of cream into it. You can add more, if you wish to do so; I brought the tin with me in case it wasn’t sweet enough for you.”

Elefseus, in turn, took the tin of cream and poured in so much cream that it made the color of the coffee much lighter than it was originally. The reflectiveness the drink provided disappeared, as well as any indication of the wolfsbane’s presence and his blackened eyes that were mirrored within. The rose-eyed young man stirred the liquid with a small teaspoon, content with the color; he knew that it was enough.

“Thank you, my prince.” Elefseus said, raising the cup to his rosy lips and drinking the sweet fatality. The blond’s irises widened with glee—

_It’s begun._

—and he took a sip of his own drink, which didn’t need any toxin of its own. The poison was in the deathly saccharine smile the prince expressed, as if everything was as it should be, “You’re quite welcome.”

Tettere counted the minutes while he continued to engage his friend in friendly conversation. He took the liberty of going through the castle library and discreetly reading the medical texts on wolfsbane—or rather, monkshood was the more known name. The prince knew that Elefseus didn’t like to show any weakness, even when the young man felt quite ill. So when the initial signs of the poison began to take place, all he saw from the young viscount was a slight twitch in the eye. A few minutes later, the pearl-haired noble excused himself to use the lavatory, staggering out the study door.

The blond’s heart rushed from exhilaration. He realized that he had to continue feigning ignorance when his friend returns. Yet how could he quell his excitement when perfection was almost in his grasp?

Elefseus returned after a while, pale-faced and breathing heavily. Tettere immediately stood and rushed to the nobleman’s side. By now, anyone could tell that something was wrong with the poor boy. The prince cupped the viscount’s face and asked if he was alright, willing himself to channel worry into his voice. He saw the young man shiver at his touch.

With quivering, slightly-blue tinted lips, Elefseus managed to croak out, “Perhaps I should go home.”

“No, my darling,” Tettere protested calmly, taking the object of his schemes into his lean arms as the other’s knees buckled. “You’ll stay here, with me. Forever.”

The realization came quickly to the pearl-haired nobleman and he heaved a sigh before weakly commenting, “I always knew you would be the death of me.”

Those rose-colored eyes then closed, overtaken by deadly sleep. The blond lowered himself to kneel on the floor, with the viscount limp in his arms. He placed his hand over his friend’s chest, feeling the slowing heartbeat. And he remained that way, simply holding onto his beautiful beloved, until Elefseus of Hades took his last breath.

\--

After taking the necessary precautions—going outside through the window, setting Elefseus’ horse out into the woods, telling the maids that he had gone home, asking the servants not to disturb him for any reason, sneaking the corpse to his chambers, and embalming the body within the secret room accessed through the inside of his wardrobe closet—he had gone back into the halls of his castle, acting as if nothing happened.

All the castle residents and staff soon retired for the night and Tettere returned to his quarters, locking the door. He then opened his wardrobe and carefully pushed aside the curtain of hanger-held attires to reveal a door, leading to the room his friend now resided.

Elefseus had died in such a beautiful way, unlike Briar Rose: his expression was nothing but serenity. Even now, the young man looked like someone who was sleeping peacefully rather than a murdered man. His dear friend lived a life full of honor and integrity, despite his hardships, and that purity transcended into a completely different level at his time of death. He became much more desirable than any other corpse the prince had ever encountered during his nightly graveyard visits. Gently retrieving the lovely corpse from its throne (a finely upholstered chair he had managed to build within the room quite some time ago), Tettere retreated back to the comforts of his sleeping quarters and laid Elefseus’ body atop his bed like a husband to his newly wedded bride. His heart started to race at the thought of finally immersing himself in the sweet temptation of his dreams.

He let those pearly strands of hair wrap around his slender fingers as he started to plant light kisses around the young man’s face. His impulses told him that he doesn’t have to wait any longer; his fingers stumble to disrobe them both, as quickly as he could. Their clothes fell to the floor, leaving them bare like their first emergence from the womb—still innocent, still untainted. Tettere traced lines across that beautiful skin, across the scar on his shoulder from their childhood, and he could almost feel Elefseus shiver at his touch. To make love to his ideal was much more than he could have ever imagined. Unlike Icarus, who flew too close to the sun in his giddiness of flight, the prince was able to enjoy the thrills of his achievement.

With each brush of skin, the blond felt himself slowly suffocating from desire. He stroked Elefseus’ cheek lovingly—he could have sworn it had a light pink tinge; poor darling, was he embarrassed?—and with a movement of his hips, they were one. The prince closed his eyes and embraced Elefseus’ body, holding it close and almost feeling warmth as they continued to become twain.

The carnal pleasures of the body and the emotional high of imagining his adored beauty to be just that— _his_ —were overwhelming. Tettere lost himself into lovemaking; so much so that the he could practically feel his precious Hadean gem return his ministrations with small gestures of his own—those hot gasps of bliss which smelled faintly like coffee and cream and poison ghosting his neck as Elefseus reciprocated his words of affection. _I love you_ , Tettere mumbled the sensitive scar on his beloved’s shoulder; and he regretted not having realized it sooner. His mind no longer distinguished reality and morality and anything else. Everything only revolved around him and his ideal bride. The blond reached his climax soon enough and the dream had to end: once the white faded from his vision, all that was left was Elefseus’ corpse, pale and cold as it had first—and always—been.

The illusion was broken immediately. This wasn’t the same Elefseus. There was no comforting smile to greet him at the wake of their consummation, no words of teasing protest because the entire castle was nestled in sleep, no post-coital gestures that guaranteed his dreams were coming to fruition; there was nothing at all. Where was his Elefseus?

“Elefseus,” he whispered to the corpse, as if it were only sleeping. The prince’s hands patted all over the viscount’s skin, looking for a sign—any sign, any response—as he continued to call out, in vain, “Elefseus, Elef, darling, won’t you answer me?”

As he desperately tried to rouse his gem from eternal slumber, the grave realization that had been delayed by his deluded fantasies finally came crashing down into his conscious like a judge’s gavel condemning him of the crime no one saw him commit. He murdered the Elefseus he knew and loved, all in the name of claiming the most ideal of ideals. Tettere’s wax wings had melted after all; and now, he felt himself slowly drowning into the madness that his failure and loss released from the fragile gates of his mind.

It was his corruption that robbed Elefseus of his immaculateness; and, as he was, Tettere was unfit to be with his treasure. How could he, as he defiled the deceased viscount’s body with horrid tears that stemmed from his ugly conscious? Perfection needs to be matched—purity with purity. _Yes_ , he thought, _that’s it_. Grasping the fact that he needed to cleanse himself, he began to frantically look around the room. The prince smiled as his deranged sight landed on the dresser drawer.

\--

The following morning, as Duke Thanatos arrived at the castle to inquire of his missing son’s whereabouts, a maid burst through the door and urged the king to make haste towards the prince’s quarters. When the two entered the room after parting the sea of servants and castle staff, they saw the embalmed body of Elefseus bring held tightly in the arms of the newly deceased Tettere. A short distance away from the blond’s open hand was a pillbox labeled “wolfsbane.”


End file.
